


Every Leaf Speaks Bliss

by catnipquills



Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Canon Relationships, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-05
Updated: 2015-10-05
Packaged: 2018-04-24 22:47:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4937947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catnipquills/pseuds/catnipquills
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>However, before Alec could form an answer, the warlock closed the distance between them in a slow, deliberate movement. The line of his body was pressed to Alec’s back then, barely any part of their bodies left where they weren’t touching. The nephilim held his breath, felt himself still entirely against Magnus in anticipation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Every Leaf Speaks Bliss

**Author's Note:**

> This is a first. I set this somewhere a couple of months after COHF, but as it really has very little plot this could possibly be put into any context... Enjoy?
> 
> (I'm actually back to editing a few things here and there, so a few tiny phrases or words might change.)

Almost subconsciously, Alec traced the wet patterns on the window. Wet on the other side of the glass at least. His fingers were following the trails each raindrop left on the surface in its wake, before falling apart into tiny fragments of fluid, vanishing to the inattentive observer. Some were gone before they reached the hip-high window sill, others dropped barely above the lowest side of the frame and were gone before Alec’s fingers could find them. The setting sun was barely visible behind the clouds, the looming dark the only sign that it was there at all.

Alec felt calm, finally settling into the quiet of the loft. Magnus was still busy working on another spell, only soft noises dragging from the alcove across the room where a desk was half-hidden behind an impressive bookshelf. In all honesty, Alec wasn't trying particularly hard to use the free time on his hands in sensible ways. He simply didn't feel the need to fill it up with more things. Actually, his mind was grateful for the silence, content to stare out of the window and at the occasional umbrella passing by below. The last weeks had been busy with hunts and appointments, the evening an unexpected break – “Go and enjoy some time with your warlock _boyfriend_ ,” Isabelle had told him, practically shoving him out of the institute's front-door.

It made him smile unbidden. _Boyfriend_ , he mouthed and marveled at the impossibility of the whole situation. Just a little while ago, Alec would have never believed he could have something like this. _(Someone like Magnus.)_ He’d very nearly ruined it all, too. Decidedly, the nephilim pushed the dark thought away, basked in the sweet little happiness that was them finally settling into each other’s lives. As easy as breathing. 

He shivered suddenly, realizing belatedly that dusk had departed to leave room for the night. The cold was creeping in through the cracks in the old walls or perhaps it was just autumn approaching, making the warm days mild and the mild nights chilly. The nephilim tugged his fingers into the sleeves of his sweater, folding his arms around his middle.

 

“Cold?” Alec jumped at the other’s voice. He looked over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow and signed when he saw Magnus stretch lazily, some papers still in his hands. The warlock chuckled softly at his reaction, dropping something on the couch while Alec, feeling bold, said: “Well, a certain someone is not living up to his boyfriend duties.” 

Magnus stopped for a moment, the noise of his jeans – dark purple and one of Alec’s favorites because it clung to the warlock’s hips just _right,_ not that he’d admit it – vanishing, leaving only the soft rain outside to sound in the loft. Then, the warlock shifted on his bare feet, made a humming noise from somewhere, an amused sound. (Alec could pick those things up now from a single noise. It made him oddly proud.)

“And what are those?” there was a challenge in the warlock’s voice, something rich and deep. The nephilim didn't turn, kept his eyes on the window in front of him. But he was only staring out into the darkness for another second, before a light nearby flicked on. Magnus’s blurred form became visible in the blurry reflection of the window, his outstretched hand dropping lazily back to his side, a few remaining blue sparks faded out immediately.

It was hard looking anywhere but at the warlock in normal cases, with that light button down shirt, his jeans and the bare feet he looked so very … _comfortable_. Maybe that was the wrong description. It was just that there was a softness to his eyes, an openness in his half-gone make up that gave Alec all sorts of warm feelings.

Whatever it was, it was clear in Magnus’s eyes when they met his, even if the nephilim couldn't be sure of his expression in this faded mirror image. However, before Alec could form an answer, the warlock closed the distance between them in a slow, deliberate movement. The line of his body was pressed to Alec’s back then, barely any part of their bodies left where they weren't touching. The nephilim held his breath, felt himself still entirely against Magnus in anticipation.

The thought which had been somewhere on the tip of his tongue, seemed lost when Alec swallowed at the hands settling softly on his hips. For a moment, it was just closeness and breathing together. Alec could feel the heat radiating of the second body so close to his. A hand traveled under his sweater and over the bare skin of his stomach. The cold air threatened to sneak under the hem of the fabric only for a moment, before Magnus’s fingers stroked softly over his sides, leaving something akin to fire everywhere they touched. Just a few movements and the warm breath of the warlock against his neck, left Alec boneless. (Such _simple_ things).

He felt the moan in the back of his throat and made it a hum when he bit his lip. A moment later there was an insistent pair of lips kissing along the side of his throat, Magnus molding himself impossible closer. Alec’s knuckles started to turn white where he griped the edge of the window sill tightly. This hadn't gone unnoticed by Magnus if the fingers passing over the back of the nephilim’s hand were any indication.

Then the warlock’s hand wrapped around the front of his neck, using gentle pressure to manipulate the nephilim where he wanted him. When Magnus’s tongue darted out at the end of his jaw, Alec gasped sharply and absentmindedly inclined his head to make more room. He could feel Magnus grin against his skin. The nephilim groaned quietly when the second teasing hand wandered in a line just above his waistband. It leaves Alec with goose bumps all over.

Magnus made a disapproving noise, his lips close to the nephilim’s ear. “Don’t tell me you’re still cold?” Alec felt himself grin, grabbed the other’s wrist and moved both their hands to reach below the fabric of his jeans. “Seems you have to try _ha_ -,“ his voice staggered when the warlock took the hint easily. “Harder?” Magnus asks sweetly, lips brushing the shell of Alec’s ear. The nephilim moaned at his hand closing around him in earnest and stroking with near perfect pressure.

 

Suddenly, Alec felt laughter bubbling up inside him. The sound that finally fell from his lips was breathless and eager. He wondered if the warlock caught it for what it meant and got his answer when an open-mouthed kiss against the place where his neck dipped into his shoulder morphed into a chuckle. The nephilim sunk back into Magnus’s embrace then, letting him support his weight. Something in the banter was so very familiar by now that Alec felt completely at ease, wanted more of the warlock like he had never expected.

When the nephilim bit his lip and gave a low moan, it was more for the warlock’s benefit than anything else. (And he could feel the other’s fingers tighten a fraction, the heartbeat which seemed to echo right between the nephilim’s own shoulder blades as erratic as his own.) Alec interlaced their fingers on his bare hip slowly, gasped loudly at another pass of tongue at the side of his neck and rolled his hips back against the warlock.

When Magnus’s movements faltered for a moment, Alec used one hand to reach for the other’s hair. It forced his body into a somewhat awkward curve, but Magnus – _like so often_ – easily understood, ducked his head into the caress. Alec could have sworn that in the brief moment their eyes met before they kissed, that the other’s eyes shone with brightness so much that there was a spark behind them. Twisting his upper body more, broke some of their contact in favor of deepening their kisses, Alec’s fingers tapping random patterns against the warlock’s jaw.

A particular twist of Magnus’s wrist, the thumb passing over the tip - that picked up the former pace momentarily, but decided then to drag it out oh so slowly - made Alec break the kiss to breathe in sharply. He turned his head away in instinct not decision, but the warlock was chasing after him and backing Alec half into the wall, half into the window sill. With the movement, both them twisted, the warlock removing his hands in favor of steadying Alec, diving in for his lips. The nephilim expected the sharpness of the stony sill somewhere in his back, but found Magnus’s hand was already there, fingers spread wide over his lower back to shield him from the edge.

One of the warlock’s knees came up to press where his hand had been only moments before, the elastic bands of the dark jogging pants now altogether not in a comfortable place. He was a bit under-dressed in comparison to the warlock, wasn't he? Maybe he should have made a bit of an effort – nails raking down his side stopped that train of thought very effectively, making him groan. Magnus rectified the pants-situation with a sharp tug, sending the fabric to catch somewhere at Alec’s knees. (The nephilim was certain that the only reason Magnus didn't comment on the lack of underwear with a leering grin was because he was beyond teasing.)

The warlock went for his mouth again, their hands bumping when the nephilim reached for the zipper of Magnus jeans. The urgency that had built between them became a slower burn when they shuffled towards more bare skin. Alec ended up slapping the other’s hand away which made the warlock grin into the kiss. But because kissing and undressing demanded a lot more coordination than his slightly off-track mind could provide, the nephilim pulled away and went for the other’s shirt first. Magnus was a considerable help in the removal of the same, even when his hands kept going for Alec’s sweater until the nephilim groaned irritated and pulled it over his head himself.

“Change of scenery?” Alec asked right against the other’s lips when he leaned in again. Magnus eyes were almost completely black, the grin that spread his lips entirely predatory. Together they stumbled towards the bedroom, the nephilim almost falling because of all this fabric tying up his legs.

“Wait,” he breathed against Magnus’s lips, framing his face with both hands.

“Wait a second.” The warlock nodded, but Alec wasn't even halfway free, when the other grabbed for any part of him that he could reach. In the half-dark, only light by the single lamp the warlock had switched on before, the nephilim was torn between the sweet touches and the desire for more. Finally, Magnus’s claimed one of his hands, pressed a kiss to the inside of his wrist and it was only due to shadowhunter agility that Alec manages at all.

However, the momentary delay almost ended in a change of destination as Alec found himself entirely satisfied with the couch, but Magnus was clearly not. (Even if he seemed quite content to press the nephilim down against it and leaving a hickey near his collarbone.) He had to drag the nephilim into the bedroom by the elbow, whispering: “I want to take my time with warming you up.” His voice dropped low and dangerous. (And it should be cheesy that they are playing this game, shouldn't it?) The nephilim found himself stumbling into Magnus’s lap with his knees on both sides of the warlock’s thighs, the other dragging him close. With their clothes gone, the warlock’s arousal was very obvious against his naked skin.

As was the insistent press of a slick finger that traveled down his lower back like a silent question. Alec suspected this to be another instant of Magnus being very much the non-human that he is because clearly the lube had appeared out of nowhere. But there was the bottle of lube very close on the bed sheets, the smear of it on the palm that cups over his cock and maybe he hadn't been paying attention.

Magnus circled his fingers idly over the nephilim’s skin, slipping teasingly over the rim.

“If you don’t do something right now-,” Alec never had to voice the threat, because the warlock made quick work of wriggling a first finger in to the last knuckle. “ _Yes_ ,” Alec told him in a moan, their foreheads touching and his fingers digging into the other’s shoulder blades.

“Come on. _More._ ” He could feel the tip of the warlock’s tongue by his lips when Magnus’s wets his own.

 

But instead of complying, Magnus retracted his fingers with a wet noise that sounded obscene in the– safe for their harsh breathing - quiet room. After gripping Alec’s hips tightly, the warlock flipped them almost too easily and urged the nephilim to slide back on the bed with insistent but gentle touches. Alec could have groaned in frustration, his fingers clenching and unclenching in the dark sheets for a few moments. But Magnus’s much warmer presence than the cool, silky sheets settled over his body in the half-dark.

The warlock kissed a line over his chest, his, in the dim light, almost golden fingers leaving smears everywhere they went – _how odd to have a touch that seemed scalding hot be so slippery._ Alec gasped when Magnus thumb found a perky nub just before his tongue followed, the touch almost brief but bone-melting, nonetheless. The nephilim shifted into it – because he won’t admit that he _arched_ – and the warlock accommodated his every touch. (Yielding where Alec demanded space and chasing where he left room.) 

When the other’s touch wandered lower again, the warlock’s teeth left a mark near his belly button – Alec would comment on the other’s fascination if he hadn't been busy breathing – that would be quiet visible tomorrow on his skin, purple maybe or blue. The nephilim’s breath hitched at the thought of another mark and he’d mark the warlock back the next time. But in right that moment, Alec just felt the need to urge Magnus to do _anything_ right behind his teeth. Just then, the warlock’s tongue passed over his cock, morphing any sound he held back into a moan that he couldn't quite keep quiet.

“Magnus,” the name was more vowels on Alec’s lips, his fingers twisting into fabric. For a second their eyes met, when the nephilim looked down. There was dangerous sort of glint in the other’s eyes. The warlock seemed to mind the distortion of his name very little when he closed his mouth around Alec’s cock and swallowed him down with very little preamble. The nephilim had to bite his fingers to keep from shouting.

It had little use and Alec gave it up quickly to stifle any sounds. Or maybe – and this would be more true to admit – his mind and any sensible coordination was gone with every other pass of Magnus’s tongue. The warlock came up with a plopping noise, but what got Alec’s attention was the bite at the inside of his leg. His eyes fluttered open – and when had Alec closed them – only to find yellow-green-almost-black pupils watching him intently. After a short movement, Magnus’s fingers found their position high on Alec’s thigh and lifted the same up to rest on the warlock’s shoulder. He pressed a kiss to the insight of the nephilim’s knee without ever breaking eye contact – higher than he had bitten before, but like a soothing act nonetheless.

There was another flick of his hand, and his pupils became silts for a second when the bedside lamp flickered from to more life. It left the room barely any brighter than before, the light casing over the ground to catch on the lower bit of the deep blue curtains where they touched the floor. The space around the bed became obvious to be a bit of a mess, but the shadowy frames left much for imagination. Except for Magnus’s body that his. Well, he was a mess, too. The nephilim took a moment to focus on the warlock, his mind vicious and – _blown out._ (Magnus chuckled. Alec hadn't meant to say it, but the smile on the other’s lips is worth the foolishness every time.)

The warlock’s hair seemed to have forgotten any sense of direction, in pursuit of every cardinal direction and Alec thought he must have knotted his hands there a lot more than he had consciously realized. But his mind was following a different track quickly, when his eyes traveled down the other’s body and admired the lean muscles just underneath Magnus’s gleaming, perfect skin. Further down to where an almost _elegant_ – and how could that be possible? – line of hair framed his obvious arousal. The nephilim was dimly aware that he was leering, his tongue darting out for a moment. Magnus caught his gaze and groaned.

This time the warlock’s magic seemed a tad less controlled as there are blue sparks that remained close to Magnus’s fingertips even after illuminating parts of the room. When he traced lines over the planes of Alec’s stomach, just by the earlier mark, there was an electricity to his touch that Alec could pretend not to be entirely made up by the part of his brain that was flooded with endorphins. The second hand seemed to rediscover its grip on the nephilim’s thigh and Alec was carefully folded together – “Flexible,” Magnus murmured clearly approving – when the fingers traveled higher up to circle somewhere above his heart.

And before Alec could complain, voice out loud that he was _kind of dying in anticipation here_ Magnus had two fingers slipping inside of him, stretching and twisting only the barest of moments before finding just the right spot. The nephilim’s body jolted with the spark running up his spine. He sucked a breath in on a half-moan like there was no air at all left and barely registered another digit joining the other two, passing that bundle of nerves again. The touches were leaving Alec to wriggle his hips for more, less, anything.  The nephilim threw his head back into the pillows, grabbing the same with one hand by the side of his head, reaching down with the other for – “ _Magnus_.”

“Did you want something?” the warlock said, grinning darkly – dragging him back from where Alec was losing himself. Suddenly, Magnus withdrew his fingers, let go off Alec’s leg in favor of sliding between his thighs. The nephilim was flabbergasted for a second, trying to catch his breath. The warlock leaned forward until their noses almost touched, his warmth by now almost irritating and too hot. He lent in for a kiss that got heated quickly, left the nephilim even more breathless than before when they parted. Where there chests rested against each other, Alec felt his own rising and falling quickly. (But also, almost-maybe-possible, the madding heartbeat of the warlock.)

“Then you should take it, darling.”

Alec growled. The nephilim had acted before he’d decided to do, flipped them around and left Magnus gasping as his back was pressed into the mattress in a quick movement. But Alec wasn't done there. He reached back and arranged them so he could slide down on Magnus’s cock in one fluid movement. The warlock grabbed his hips – Alec wasn't sure whether to steady him or to steady himself, but cared very little when moaned openly and was quiet certain that this was when the sentiment of “eyes rolling back in your head” was appropriate.

“ _Alec_ ,” Magnus breathed, very little cheek left and the nephilim found it was one of his favorite sounds altogether. He rolled his hips, and they were moving together, hands searching only for a second before settling almost as they’d been before, fingers interlaced in places. Magnus met Alec halfway on every downward roll of hips, making both of them groan. Their rhythm flattered quickly, the warlock reaching for Alec’s cock and being batted away. “No need,” the nephilim breathed with very little steadiness and something about it made Magnus groan.

Their voices mingled then, pitched and turned up. Alec slumped forward, had very little mind to catch himself. But it was just enough to try and roll off, only to find Magnus’s arms holding him tightly in place. Their hearts were racing together, off-beat just by a tad and it was for once the nephilim who found his words first – the one stopped basking in the silent glow – whispering soft little words of admiration, adoration, of love. Magnus’s lips passed over his forehead, tenderly. There was no cold left in the room.


End file.
